Last Dance
by jibber59
Summary: My take on what should have happened at the end of the Reunion Job. Yes - once again I have to mess with then ending of one of the stories. What can I say - I want my boy to get more attention! Written with due respect to the original writers and creators of one of my Favorite places - the Leverage Universe.
1. Chapter 1

_**My take on what should have happened at the end of the Reunion Job. Yes - once again I have to mess with then ending of one of the stories. What can I say - I want my boy to get more attention! Written with due respect to the original writers and creators of one of my Favorite places - the Leverage Universe.**_

"Morning after the prom – I guess this is what that would feel like." Parker was speaking softly, more or less to herself, but Hardison could hear the mumbling.

"What'd you say? Speak up. I'm too tired to have to work at it this morning. Good tired, but tired." He smiled, remembering their dance from the night before, and the promise he chose to believe it held.

"I was just thinking – I guess that was kind of like going to the prom or something – right?"

"Yeah – or something definitely. You OK with what happened?" Dealing with Parker on anything emotional was a minefield. Tread carefully and all was fine, but one misstep and the past 2 years of building a relationship could be blown to bits.

"Sure – I mean it was just a dance. Right?"

"Of course it was just a dance." Sophie had walked in on Parker's question, and immediately assumed they were discussing her dance with Nate. Her unexpected, unpremeditated dance. It had been a wonderful combination of past memories and future dreams, all happening in a very surreal present. Regardless of the potential of the moment, she was not about to have the event discussed by the team. "Nate and I really had no choice given the circumstances. I mean, walking out was not really an option now was it?"

"Maybe not for the first dance, but I'm thinking the next 6 or 7 could have been avoided." Hardison grinned at her discomfort. Better she think they were gossiping than she find out about his dance with Parker. Sophie would build that up to trouble in record time. No, that quiet moment they shared on the scaffolding above the dance floor would remain a private interlude between him and Parker.

"Not your dance Sophie, the one Hardison and I shared." OK – should have discussed the privacy issue with Parker. Oh well.

"Really?" He hated it when she got that look – head tilted, eyebrow up, eyes gleaming. Danger Will Robinson!

"Morning all." Saved by Nate, at least for the moment. "Everybody recovered from teen age flashbacks? Hardison, did all the Manticore stuff disappear as planned?"

"Looks like it. Just started the review – yes I know, running late this morning – but I can find no activity that we should be worrying about. I suppose I should keep an eye on what happens to the corporate interests, but that will likely be tied up in court challenges for a few years. You'd have to have heavy juice and lots of money to get any control of those kinds of corporate rights and patents with any speed. They'll be years out of date before anyone can make a move."

Nate nodded his approval. Few things were as satisfying as that moment it was confirmed the bad guys were done. Watching them squirm a little always helped. Watching them squirm a lot was even better.

"What about our 'friends' from the Iranian secret police?"

"Well, there were no reports of bodies found had Manticore headquarters, so Eliot either left them alive or hid the bodies. Of course, it's still pretty early. They may not have found them in there yet. I'm routing the evidence of terrorist and terrorist like activities we have on them through a bunch of decoy sources on route to Homeland, so it should be a matter of a few brief days till they are on a plane to somewhere nasty courtesy of the US Government. They won't be a problem for anyone."

"Speaking of Eliot – where is he?" They all looked around the room at Sophie's question. "Well I wouldn't have asked if he'd been here! Anybody hear from him last night after the job?"

"He was mumbling something on his way out of his job, but nothing after that. Well, just more mumbling. I think he was pissed off at us."

"Why? He got to do his thing – beat people up. He should have been happy." Parker looked confused.

"Parker, he doesn't necessarily LIKE beating people up – he's just really good at it and has no issues with doing it when they have it coming to them." Nate tried again to explain.

"Like I said, he should be happy."

"I think is issue was a bit more than that. I mean, he was fighting with a couple of trained assassins. He would have told us if there'd been a problem – wouldn't he?" Sophie's voice was now tinged with a bit of concern. Eliot wasn't usually late to the office, especially right after a job. He was particular about ensuring any loose ends were taken care of so nothing came back to haunt them.

Nate looked like he was having the same thoughts. "Hardison, check his comm. See if it's active." A few keystrokes showed the device as off. "Ok, bring up the recording from last night. Start it when he was leaving."

A few more key strokes later Eliot's voice filled the room. The anger was evident.

"Anybody asking about Eliot – Anybody wonder if Eliot's alright?" They could hear the sound of a punch, then the rant continued. "No, you all have a real good time there. Enjoying the music. Good food? Y'all got each other's back – right." A few moments of heavy breathing, followed by the rev of a motorcycle.

"Well – he obviously was fine – pissed off, but fine. So where is he?"

The voice started up again. "I mean, it's was just a few security guards right. Oh yeah – and the trained assassins. Iranian trained assassins. No big deal. Two of them, that's nothing right? Hell, Eliot can take them blindfolded, so no need to worry about him. Why waste time worrying when you can be dancing. Not like he'd want to be dancing with a pretty girl when he can go a few rounds on the dance floor with killers!" They could still hear the motorcycle in the background as the hitter went quiet again.

"He is seriously annoyed with us." Sophie occasionally had a gift for understatement.

"Annoyed? Annoyed? Damn woman, he is homicidally manic. Nate – I think this might be a good opportunity to put a deadbolt on the office door. I mean I know he can bust it down, but it might give us a few minutes head start."

"Relax Hardison. The fact he isn't here probably means he is taking some time to cool off. He'll come by in a while and we'll make…"

Eliot's voice came over the speakers again. "Anybody listening there. Guys, I got company. They're back and they're pissed off." They heard a shot and the ping of a ricochet as the bullet hit the bike. "Damn, they wreck this bike I'll kill 'em. Just finished rebuilding the engine." There were a few seconds when all that could be heard was the bike, then another shot, and another. After the second there was a soft grunt, almost drowned by the engine. "Shit. Nate I'm on…" Another shot, with the sound of the bike on gravel, followed by tumbling, banging and the crashing of metal. Followed by silence. Aching silence.

"Track the route Hardison. It was – what – about 4 minutes from when he left the building. He's got right onto the highway, probably going at a good clip since he was mad. So in four minutes at say 80 mph he has gone about four and a half to five miles…"

"5.3 miles" Parker interjected quietly.

"Right. What is four and a half to 6 miles from where he started."

Sophie was checking a news source on her phone. "There are no reports of any accidents in the area, but if his bike went off the road…"

"We'll find him."

"Uh – Nate?" Hardison looked pale and scared. He pointed to the screen where he had brought up images of the search area. Rocks, curved roads and cliffs – lots of cliffs. If Eliot had gone over… no, he wasn't going there. There were ditches and soft rolling hills as well. That's where they'd find him.

 _"_ _Does anyone care if Eliot got out?"_

 _No response. Of course not. They were too busy. They had important things to worry about – like the spotlight dance. Much more important than worrying about his survival against a team of security guards (ok – fairly amateur level security guards compared to some he had been up against – but they were armed dammit) and a pair of Iranian trained assassins. Granted, the day he couldn't take out two assassins in a fight was the day he needed to start planning his retirement (although realistically not taking out the assassins would likely mean it would be too late for future plans). OK – mind wandering a little too much here. Oh – look. A security guard. See, pay attention Eliot._

 _One solid punch took care of the unfortunate guard. Probably hit him a little harder than necessary, but hell – he worked for the bad guys so it was justified. Eliot headed to his motorcycle, still mumbling at the others. Still getting no response. With a quick glance back to the now quiet building, he revved the bike and headed off. He could faintly hear the music in the background through his earbud, which only served to feed his growing frustration. He was wishing he'd thought to turn it off before putting his helmet on. Too late now._

 _He'd opted for the service roads to head home. Less traffic and a lot easier to open the bike up a little more and release some of his anger on the side roads than on the highway. Much safer for all concerned, and fewer patrols. He continued to mumble periodically as he aimed back to the city and McRory's. He didn't really expect an answer, and at this point didn't really want one. Venting was the only thing on the agenda. He knew it was best to get it out of his system now, while they weren't paying attention. He knew there was no logic behind his anger. After all, it wasn't like he wanted them worrying about him. His job was to make sure the bad guys were out of the way, and that's what he was doing. They expected it of him, and their lack of concern only proved they trusted him to take care of business. Of course they weren't worried. This was Eliot Spencer they were talking about._

 _And when they did fuss – did worry? Well, he tended to get a bit cranky. OK, full out bad-tempered, ornery son-of-a-bitch mode. When they worried about him it meant they weren't focusing on the job._

 _But this was different. The job was done, _ was done and the game was over. He was headed home to put ice on his bruises and wrap up a couple of cracked ribs. At least this time he didn't dislocate his shoulder. They, on the other hand, were enjoying dancing, food, drink and a bit of relaxation. Even Parker was buying into the "prom". Who'd have guessed she would relate to something like that? So they enjoyed, and he recovered. Sometimes his job sucked._

 _He'd been so caught up in the frustration of moment he hadn't noticed a car coming up behind him. He'd reached a deserted stretch of road. Little traffic at the best of times and this late at night all but abandoned. The car had turned off the headlights, so he'd had no sense of danger until it he caught a glimpse in the mirror as he followed a curve in the road. At virtually the same moment he saw the pistol pointed out the passenger side window, and swerved his bike in an avoidance manoeuver. He could feel the impact as the shot hit the seat on the bike, just inches behind him. Damn, that was going to be expensive to fix. The speed he was travelling made control difficult, but he'd had enough past experience to keep upright._

 _"_ _Anybody listening there. Guys, I got company. They're back and they're pissed off. Damn, they wreck this bike I'll kill 'em. Just finished rebuilding the engine."_

 _He felt the slug hit his shoulder. It wasn't a bad hit, but speed, angles and force of impact were enough to make him lose control, just briefly. It couldn't have been at a worse place, he thought, as he headed for the curve unable to steer. He could feel the gravel under the wheels as he crossed the shoulder into the rough terrain, and then could feel only the sensation of falling, tumbling, head over heels toward the edge of the ravine. The last feeling he remembered was making full body contact with a large and unforgiving boulder. He bounced of it, back on his path to the cliff._

Nate drove slowly along the road, looking for any sign of a vehicle off to the side. They'd been looking for almost two hours, cruising along the side roads off the highway. Any main road accident would have been spotted by now, and Hardison's review of the police and highway patrols showed no motorcycle incidents. Incident – much safer word than the alternative. Nate wasn't letting himself, or the team, say the alternative. Eliot was too good to let that happen.

Sophie sat beside him, watching the other side of the road. The overnight rains were making it difficult to find any signs. Downpours washed away evidence of a collision and deep puddles hid any indication of tracks along most of the roadway. Neither occupant had spoken for some time. Periodically Sophie pulled out her cell and hit redial, but the call kept going to Eliot's voicemail. She reached for the phone to try again.

"Give it up Sophie –he'd have answered by now if he could."

"Well, he was mad at us. Maybe he's holding out."

"Really? After his last words do you really think he would play games now? On something like this?"

"Don't say that – they weren't his last words."

Nate inhaled and let out a slow breath. "You're right. The last words we heard last night" he amended. They drove on.

Below them, on a road that traversed under the cliffs, Parker and Hardison were having a similar conversation.

"He might tease you this way, but no way would he torture the rest of us Hardison. Eliot is not messing with us. He's in trouble and we have to find him. So shut up and drive."

After a few seconds of silence she spoke again. "I'm scared" was the only explanation she offered, but it was more than enough. Hardison reached over and took her hand, hoping to be reassuring. It might have been more convincing had his hand not been shaking so badly. "I am too. We all are. But this is Eliot we're talking about. Nothing can take out Eliot."

"That's the problem though, isn't it? We all take for granted that he is like some kind of superhero. But he's not. I mean, he's amazing and all. I'm real glad he's on our side, 'cause I'd hate to be going up against him. But he is human. Sort of. That's why he was so mad."

"He wasn't mad Parker – not really anyway. Eliot just gets…well, I don't know. Frustrated with us maybe. But you're right. We take him for granted. We all gotta talk about that with him when this is done." He hoped she picked up on the optimism. She smiled back.

 _He was wet, sore and pissed off. Those were the feeling he had as he woke up. Not necessarily in that order. It took a few seconds to register just what had happened. The fight, the bike ride, the car. The shot. Falling, rolling. And ending up in a ditch? He'd been headed for the cliff, and he ended up in a drainage ditch. "What do you know" – he thought to himself – "life is a 'ditch'!"_

 _OK – hysteria. Not good. "Focus Spencer. Report!"_

 _He started reviewing his status. He was conscious – alive. Always a good starting point. His head hurt, but not bad. He was definitely wet, but then it was raining - hard. He could feel it on his face, so kept his eyes closed against the onslaught. Wasn't raining when he was shot – right, add shot to the report – so he'd been out for a while. Shot in the shoulder – so much for celebrating that there was no dislocation this time. Always a price to pay for premature victories. Aside from shot, how was he hurt? He couldn't tell. He couldn't move. He forced down a welling sense of panic. He couldn't move. But he hurt. He could feel a throbbing pain in his leg, and the shoulder wound hurt like hell. And he was bleeding. Could feel in on his side and lower back. Opening his eyes he looked down to see the bike covering him. That explained a lot. He flopped is head back down, once again feeling the downpour on his face._

 _His eyes popped open again. He was pinned down, in a drainage ditch, in a thunderstorm. That did not sound like a best case scenario. Even as the thought entered his head, he became aware of the water inside his helmet, and just how wet his head felt. He'd been lying in the water for some time he realized. Which meant, amoung other unpleasantness, that the earbud was out of commission. Next priority was going to be for Hardison to get the damn things to work underwater. He was supposed to be a tech genius – figure it out already. He tried to remember if he'd been able to tell the team where he was, but couldn't get those last moments on the road clear in his head. No one had come from him, so it didn't really look promising._

 _Speaking of figuring things out…pinned down and water rising. Not a good combination. Eliot made the effort to try to flip the bike. The pain that shot through his leg stopped him quickly. Something from the bike was digging into him, and the movement felt like he was ripping his leg off. Not about to try that one again right away. His next idea was to try to lift his head above the waters. That worked a little better, but the dizziness made it hard to keep his head up for any time. He felt around as much as he could with is free hand to see if there was something he could use as booster. The wound to his shoulder limited his reach and he found nothing. If he could get the helmet off, he could use that. Wouldn't be great, but better than nothing. He'd try that, in a minute, after he rested. Just as soon as this fatigue went away, he thought, drifting off._

 _He dreamt he was swimming – strange since he didn't really enjoy the water. Tended to associate it with being up to his neck in a swamp or sewer somewhere, about to do something that violated all the lessons him mom had hoped he'd learn in Sunday school. Yeah, those never really took._

 _He realized, coughing – choking – this was no dream. He tried to sit, but the weight and pain kept him down. He was able to turn his head. He'd slipped off, turning his head to be half in the water – the rising water – again. Nearly drowning had brought him around, but the coughing was playing havoc with his cracked ribs. Who was he kidding? Those ribs were broken now. And if he couldn't settle down, the movement was going to result in a puncture or two. Bad to worse._

 _He had no idea how long he'd been here. The cloud cover camouflaged the time of day. There were traffic sounds, but nothing close enough to make him think he'd be spotted. Besides, he was halfway down a hill, in a ditch, with rocks and shrubs around him. Not exactly out in the open. Someone would really have to be looking. He seriously doubted anyone was._

 _They might be, depending on how late in the day it was. He'd obviously missed the morning briefing. They were starting early to make sure the client's family in Iran was safe. Eliot had a source he could contact if needed. It was a once in lifetime kind of call he'd have to make, but if they needed protection, he'd call. He hoped desperately that hadn't been needed. He guessed he'd never know now. Anyway, the team would assume he was still ticked off and passed on the meeting. It wasn't his style, but they'd presume that before they'd be guessing he was drowning in a ditch._

 _They'd be looking if they'd heard him last night. He hadn't given a specific location, but Hardison could track him. Hardison could do just about anything technical – except get those damn comms working underwater. Water – the water was still rising._

 _"_ _Focus!" he actually shouted out loud, and surprised himself. He could speak. Why hadn't he tried that? Probably because he was in the middle of nowhere in a thunderstorm. Why waste the energy? Maybe he could figure it out after another quick nap. Just close the eyes for a minute or two, and figure everything out after that._


	2. Chapter 2 replacement

_OK, not really sure what happened, but apparently chapter 2 disappeared. So, we try this again._

Hardison had pulled off on a side road. Down the slope. He had Parker had given up on finding anything below. They travelled the area several times, with no success. Frankly, he didn't want to find Eliot down there. It was a sheer drop in most spots, or a rocky landing in others. He didn't want to think about what he'd find. Better to look from above. Find where he went off the road. He was up there, somewhere. Not below.

Parker was scrambling down the hill. She was a lot more suited to that, and left him behind so she could move faster. She stopped every now and then, climbing onto something for a better vantage. He watched her scan the area. Even from here he could see the tension in her. She was still scared, and getting more so with every passing minute. It had been close to 12 hours since the last communication from Eliot. 12 hours he'd been hurt, bleeding, unconscious, dying. NO – not dying. Hardison kicked the thought out of his mind. That wasn't helping.

He jumped about 3 feet in the air at the sound of a car door slamming. He hadn't heard Nate pull up.

"Did you spot something?" Hope poured from Sophie's question.

"No, well maybe. Parker thought the road looked beat up. The grass looked flat."

Nate looked – it didn't seem special to him, but he'd take any glimpse of a chance at this point. He turned his attention to Parker. She was scurrying through the underbrush. Her voice echoed in his ear. "The grass is crushed down. I know it is." She sounded more wishful than convinced, but was not going to surrender that wish.

"Just be careful Parker. We don't want to have to rescue you too." He saw her freeze her movements.

"Did you guys hear that?"

"What?"

"I'm sure I heard something. Someone. 'Focus'"

"Focus on what."

"No Nate, that's what the voice said. You didn't hear it?" She started shouting before anyone could answer her. "Eliot – is that you? I heard you. Say something else. Where are you Eliot?"

They were all quiet. They held their collective breath, waiting for an answer. Nothing. Nate stepped back to the car and leaned on the horn. Then silence again. Then Parker leapt again. "Eliot – we're here. Say it again. Show me where you are."

"What did he say – what did you hear Parker."

"'Hurry'. Nate, he's in trouble. He's here somewhere."

 _Even though he was fairly certain he was hallucinating at this point, it was something that passed for human contact. Parker's voice sounded good to him. Never expected to be so glad to hear from anyone. She sounded scared though. God, he hoped she wasn't in trouble. He was in no shape to help her out. What was she doing out on a hillside in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain. That made no sense. Yep – definitely hallucinating. Still, would be rude not to answer._

 _"_ _Over here Parker." Well there was no way she'd hear that. Needed to be louder. "Hurry." That was no help. He could scream. He could try moving the motorcycle. He knew the pain would make him scream in a way she was sure to hear. Of course, it would probably kill him, so that might not be plan A._

 _Wasn't really sure anything could be heard over the damn car horn. Wait – the motorcycle. It had one of those. Could he reach what he needed? Had to. Had to try anyway._

"Parker, we need more than somewhere. Which direction did it sound…" Nate was cut off by the sound of a horn – a motorcycle horn. Hardison's eyes went to a spot near the edge, and he started down. Sophie's eyes were drawn to the same spot. Parker was already running toward the sound. Nate followed more slowly. He was digging out his cell phone, dialling 911 as he moved. To hell with Eliot's aversion to hospitals. There was no debate coming on this.

He could hear Parker speaking to someone. "Hang on Sparky – we got you. God, you look cold. You can stop pushing the horn Eliot – we're here. Eliot, can you hear me." Panic was working into her voice.

"Easy Parker – he's probably in shock. Just go slow."

"Nate, he's in bad shape." Hardison had arrived at the ditch, and the fear in his voice was evident. "The bike's on top of him and he's almost underwater. He's freezing – probably hypothermic."

"Ambulance is on the way. Don't touch him Hardison. I'm almost there."

Sophie watched from above, for once in her life cursing her choice of footwear. There was no way she could do the hill on heels, and going barefoot wasn't an option. So she waited. "What can I do up here Nate?"

"Nothing right now. Watch for the ambulance. I told them you'd be there to signal them in." He turned his attention to Eliot as he slid up to the ditch and moved in. Parker was on the other side, gently holding his head up. "Hey Eliot – can you hear me? Hell of a stunt to pull just to get out of a morning meeting. Eliot? Eliot?"

It seemed like hours, but really was only minutes for the ambulance and rescue squad to arrive. Extraction was proving to be another matter. Part of the bike had punctured his leg. The pressure it exerted kept him from bleeding out, but made removal a bitch. The medics had secured him so there was no further danger of his head going below water again, and Parker was holding on to him so tightly he was losing feeling in his right hand. He didn't mind. It had taken him about 10 minutes to accept they weren't a figment of his imagination, and the pressure she exerted was a good reminder. He could do without Hardison's ramblings, but even that was better than the previous silence.

The IV they had managed to get into him (hard to insert a needle into veins that were halfway to being popsicles) included a pain suppressant in anticipation of what was bound to be a difficult motorcycle extraction, along with the local anaesthetic they'd given him. He could feel them putting the tourniquet around him to stem the bleeding that would start when the pressure was released. They tapped the leg every few minutes, waiting for the anesthetic to kick in. Problem was, he'd developed a resistance to pain pills over the years. He'd conditioned himself to fight drugs through past interrogations and inquisitions, so he knew the effective of this would be marginal at best. He finally let them know the drug had started to kick in and they began. The pain still shot through him bought he fought back as much as he could. Parker was now getting payback for the pressure she'd applied earlier. He hoped he hadn't broken her fingers. A safe cracker really needed her fingers.

Once he was freed, they moved fast. He was on a backboard and placed on a stretcher and quickly moved up the hill. Even covered with blankets, he couldn't control the shivering. They kept trying to tell him it was a good sign, his body trying to warm up. He just knew it made him feel foolish. Parker rode with him. She'd been in the water with him through the process since she was small enough to sit with him and not be in the way. She was shivering by the time they got him free, but wouldn't leave. No one had been able to pry their hands apart. They weren't sure who was gripping who, but the bond was solid. Hardison drove the others, leaving Nate's car for the police to drop at the hospital for them.

Parker was waiting in Emergency for them, still wrapped in a blanket. "They wouldn't let me go in. Said they needed the space."

Sophie put an arm around her. "It's all right Parker. He knew you were there. He knew we were all there for him." Finally – she thought to herself. "We'll all wait together."


	3. Chapter 3 - replacment chapter

Two days later Eliot was limping around the office again, headed to the kitchen. The crutches the doctor had insisted on when Eliot checked himself out against medical advice were resting against the wall near the door, where he had deposited them on entering the room. Hardison stepped forward to block the step up to the kitchen area. "You know – I think the hospital had it wrong when they said there was no head injury. Clearly you have lost the ability to understand English. Stay off your feet. What part of that is giving you problems?" Eliot's glare caused Hardison to take a half step back, but he remained as a roadblock. "Sit – tell me what you want."

With a deep sigh Eliot turned to start back to the sofa. "A beer – and I know you won't give it to me so save your breath."

"Sorry man – but you heard the doc. Not while you're on pain pills." Eliot turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Damn – you're not takin' your meds are you? And you keep sayin' there's something wrong with Parker. Man, you had surgery; you damn near froze and drowned. You were shot! What is your issue with a couple of little pills?"

"Make me feel – off. Fuzzy."

"And beer doesn't?" That earned him another glare. "Fine – one beer. And you get to explain it to Sophie."

"Explain what to me. Eliot what do you think you're doing?" She reached to intercept the hand-off from Hardison, but Eliot was too fast. "Why are you enabling this behaviour Hardison?"

"'Cause my nana taught me all about self-preservation."

"Sophie – I'm fine. Tired, but fine. One beer is not going to kill me. And it won't interact with the pain meds because they are still in the bottle. Before you ask, yes I am taking the antibiotics." He had reached his destination and dropped on the seat. He carefully raised his leg up to stretch out. He smiled at her. "See – keeping it elevated as ordered."

"No sling for the arm, no crutches, no pain meds. Oh yes, you are the perfect patient aren't you? Did you re-tape your ribs after your shower? Why do I even bother to ask?"

He grinned and pulled the shirt up far enough to show the bandages. She stared back at him, unappeased. "You are going to end up back in the hospital you know."

"Leave him be Sophie." Nate entered the room with Parker following closely behind, carrying pizza. "He's a grown-up – most of the time. He knows his limits." Eliot started to acknowledge Nate's statement. "He doesn't pay any attention to them, but he knows them." The growl from the sofa was low, but clear.

"OK – new subject." He tossed a USB stick to Hardison as the others reached for pizza. A moment later the screen was lit up.

"We are going to try something we don't normally do around here. Rules. Brand new, exciting, carved in stone rules. For EVERYONE." His volume of his last word silenced the grumbling that had started, but did nothing to soften the scowls.

"Number one: During and especially at the end of a job, comms stay active until all team members have checked in and had their status and location acknowledged and confirmed by at least one other team member. Any question on that? Anybody need clarification?"

"Good – Hardison, you can turn it off now."

"That's it – one rule?"

"Rules are made when we learn from our mistakes." He replied to Parker, and then turned to Eliot. "And this was a big one. Too big. We left you hanging, and there is no excuse for it. We are so damned used to you not needing help, that it just doesn't occur to us that sometimes you do. It would help if you were better about asking for it, but we still shouldn't have assumed anything."

Eliot shifted, uncomfortable with the attention on him under the circumstance. "It all worked out. I don't need – or want – a sitter, let alone 4 of them."

"Not sitters Eliot. Teammates. Partners. You had the right to expect us to be there for you. We all have that right. The fact that you are usually the one in the role of guardian doesn't mean you have to go without having someone watching your back. So from now on, we get a bit more vigilant about that. Clear?"

"It's not your job. I'm the protector on the team. It's what I do. Everybody has a role and sticking to it is what makes us – us. You wouldn't expect me to hack into something" Hardison laughed quietly at the mere thought, stopping when he got the look from Eliot "and I don't expect Hardison to take out the security guards."

"We're not talking about Hardison becoming a Ninja. We're talking about making sure that no one gets left behind. And if there is trouble, knowing about it before it reaches the point of search parties and air ambulances. What is so difficult about that concept for you to accept? The idea that you may have to accept help?"

Eliot didn't answer.

"Seriously Eliot – why do you have an issue with us wanting to make sure you're OK? You were certainly pissed off enough about it a couple of days ago."

"I was out of line when…"

"YOU were out of line? Seriously" Sophie stood in front of him, hands on her hips and trembling with anger. "We ignored you completely, and you are the one who was out of line. What is wrong with you?"

"Why can't you just accept things as what they are?" Eliot was tired of this discussion. They'd had it before, more often than he wanted. Of course once was more often than he wanted. "Nobody takes care of me. Nobody is responsible for me. Nobody worries about me. That's the way it is supposed to be. Always has been. Always will be."

There was silence as they looked at their friend. He truly believed what he was saying. It wasn't a complaint, wasn't self-pity. It was simply a statement of fact as in the way he saw his life.

"My God Eliot – do you have any idea how wrong that is?" Nate had a pit in his stomach that went right to the floor. The ache he felt couldn't be put into words. "Why would you think that – why would you accept that?"

"Cause it's true. I keep trying to tell you it's the way things are. You keep trying to think I deserve more. You're wrong. Discussion's over."

He stood to leave, but Parker moved in to block his path, knowing he wouldn't do anything to harm her or force her away.

"You're our friend. That means something to us, even if it doesn't to you. You can't stop us from caring."

"No, but I can stop you from getting hurt. Not going to put you into a place where something could go wrong. If that means walking away, that's what I'll do." How did this escalate out of control? If only he'd kept his mouth shut that night none of this would be happening. "I don't have friends Parker. It's too dangerous. I knew this was a mistake."

"What was – agreeing to join up in the first place? Coming to Boston? Busting me out of prison? What was your mistake Eliot?"

"All of the above."

"So this – us. That was your mistake? Nice man. Really nice." Hardison looked hurt and angry.

"My mistake was in thinking I could fit in with…" Eliot wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. He knew calling them normal or real people would result in a barrage of smart ass responses. He knew it would be worse if he said what he wanted to – better people. Why did they keep insisting he was worthy of their friendship? Why did he let himself think that long enough to get close to them? It always ended badly. At home, in the service, in any group he worked with. He didn't play well with others. "…with anyone."

Parker turned away from him with tears forming that she refused to let him see. She wouldn't be weak in front of him. She didn't completely understand why she was crying, but had a feeling the tears were for him, and feared he'd see them a pity. He'd hate that, and she wouldn't do it to him. Sophie had no such concern as her tears slipped down her cheeks.

"I give up Eliot. I'm sorry we haven't been able get through the barriers you've built. They are just too high and too thick, and like you, far too strong. We could talk to you for hours and it won't help."

Finally – someone had caught on.

"But if you think for a minute it is going to stop us from caring – you're dreaming. You can't stop us. Whether you like it or not, we are your friends." She held up her hand to stop his interruption. "I don't care what you did before. We all have less than stellar histories and we deal with it. Maybe someday you'll want to, or have to, share more with us. That's your call. I trust that if we NEED to know, you'll tell us. But not to shock us, or scare us, or turn us against you. That isn't going to work, so save your energy."

"She's right Eliot. You can walk away, or in this case, limp away, anytime. But it won't change a damn thing. So, I ask it again - Everybody clear on the new rule?"

Hardison nodded. "All good. I'll figure some kind of automatic monitoring system too. Key word to set off an alarm so we all come back on line if anyone triggers it."

Nate nodded. Good idea.

Parker and Sophie nodded their agreement with the rules and the new system. All eyes turned to Eliot.

He sighed. He'd never get through to these people. For all of their misdeeds, questionable backgrounds and illegal activities, they were ridiculously naïve. He'd run out of energy to fight with them anymore. Maybe, for now, he'd try to live up to what they thought. It was a hopeless goal, but he could give it a shot, at least for a while. Sooner or later they'd find out the truth. Given the path they were on now, probably sooner rather than later. He dropped back down to his seat.

"Sure – I live for rules." There was an awkward silence. Time to come up with a new subject. "So – how was the dance?"

Sophie laughed to help release the tension. "Well, it was different. But at least Parker got her 'prom dance'. A little after the fact, but late is better than never. Actually, I guess you and Nate were the only ones who'd been to a prom."

"Yeah- yours was probably pretty memorable." Hardison was grinning. "Girls lined up for their dance with the football hero and all. How many did you have to turn away?" There was no response. "Come on man – share. Let the rest of us live vicariously."

"Didn't go" he said softly.

One of these days, Nate thought to himself, we are going to make an assumption about Eliot that proves to be right.

"Mr. Popular, Mr. High School Star didn't go to the prom? Come on man. What?" Hardison wasn't buying it.

"I had a job. Had to work. Family." And he thought the previous silence had been awkward. "So – Nate. We got a job lined up –or anything?" He was practically begging for a change of subject.

"Yeah – uh. Sure. Hardison, bring up the file I gave you yesterday. I only just started researching the mark."

As they spread out to take their normal places Sophie looked over at Parker with a question on her face. After a moment Parker picked up on it and nodded. Sophie perched on the arm of the sofa next to Eliot. She leaned over and spoke to him quietly.

"When you're back on two feet, you are taking Parker and me dancing. End of discussion." She shifted over to another chair.

Definitely was never going to change these people. Maybe the time had come to stop trying.


End file.
